


Blood of Martyrs

by kelex



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 20:47:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelex/pseuds/kelex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blood is thicker than water.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood of Martyrs

**Author's Note:**

> set during 1x22 _Devil's Trap_ ; majority of opening dialog lifted straight from the episode.  
> Warnings: violence, (w)incest
> 
> Written for the  Violated By Demon Tongue challenge.

"Your dad? He's in here with me. Trapped inside his own meat suit. He says hi, by the way. He's gonna tear you apart. He's gonna taste the iron in your blood."

Dean could feel his pulse pounding in his throat, hear the blood rushing in his ears, and he wondered for a split-second if that was natural or if that was the Demon's first little tease, making him hear his own blood pouring before it was ripped out of him. 

By his father's own hands. 

"Let him go, or I swear to God..."

"What? What are you and God gonna do? See, as far as I'm concerned, this is justice." The Demon inhabiting John's body moved closer, breath fetid as it breathed its words into Dean's face. "You know that little exorcism of yours? That was my daughter."

Dean's jaw locked and twitched as he tried not to show anything to this thing with his father's face. "Meg?"

The Demon didn't even give a blink of acknowledgement to the human's name, because it didn't matter the name of the meat suit, only that it was his child. "The one in the alley?" He moved even closer to Dean, speaking in an intimate whisper. "That was my boy. You understand?"

"You gotta be kidding me," Dean panted. Demons didn't have family, children, parents, loyalty.

"What, you're the only one who can have a family? You destroyed my children, how would you feel if I killed your family?" Dean was wincing with every word, and the Demon leaned in, grinding in his words as hard as he could. "Oh, that's right. I forgot, I did! Still, two wrongs don't make it right."

When Sam called out to the Demon, it turned around, taunting Sam with words about Jessica, how he'd been planning to marry her, shopping for rings, and the fact that she was killed, just like their mother, because they were in the way of the Demon's plans for the children like Sam. 

Dean couldn't stand it; he'd rather the Demon poke and prod at him and his own pain than Sam's, rather do anything than watch Sam suffer like that. "Can we please just get this over with, huh? Cause I really can't stand the monologing." Dean taunted, even though he was pinned helplessly against the wall. Anything to get the *thing* away from Sam. 

"Funny!" the Demon shouted, turning his wrath back towards Dean. "But that's all part of your MO, isn't it? Mask all that nasty pain." He got back in Dean's face in a heartbeat, close enough to smell the fear and the hate radiating off Dean in waves, with every tremor and twitch of his jaw. "Mask the truth."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" Dean demanded, his eyes betraying the bravado he was trying desperately to hang onto as his father's yellow eyes bored through to his soul.

"You know, you fight and you fight for this family and the truth is, they don't need you, not like you need them." The Demon licked his lips, savoring the slam of pain that sliced through Dean's eyes and made him twitch harder. "Sam, he's clearly John's favorite. Even when they fight, it's more concern than he's ever shown you." The Demon smiled nastily.

Dean swallowed hard, forcing out the jibing words, because anything the Demon did to him had to hurt less than hearing his father's voice, watching his father's face frame the words that Dean had been terrified to believe all his life. "I bet you're real proud of your kids, too. Oh, wait, I forgot. I wasted them."

The Demon's eyes closed, bowing his head as though in silent prayer as he collected himself, drawing his power into this sagging bag of skin and bone. His head snapped up, eyes glowing bright as he slammed his powers into Dean's trapped body. 

Dean cried out, groaning loudly as it felt like a fist was inside his body, twisting and churning his organs, squeezing them until he felt something burst. Blood seeped out from everywhere, ruptures in his skin, squeezing out through his pores like sweat, feeling it slide down his shirt, hearing it pound in his ears over his own grunts and screams. 

"Dean!" Sam yelled it as loud as he could as soon as his brother shouted out in pain, and he was struggling helplessly against the Demon's invisible grip as he stayed pinned against the far wall, head slammed against the wall and unable to turn away and not look. 

Dean could barely choke out the words. "Dad! Don't you let it kill me!" he screamed, trying to drag his hands into fists and he couldn't even do that, pressed against the wall and strangling on his own blood as it started to spill out of his mouth. 

Sam was screaming too, screaming his brother's name as he groaned and grunted, fighting against the force holding him back with everything he had, his mind screaming as he tried to draw on whatever desperate ability he had, whatever had let him throw off the china cabinet before, but it wasn't there. Dry as a bone and as good as a dead battery, Sam screamed Dean's name again and again as he fought. 

Agony was the only thing that Dean was able to feel or hear any more. His own screams, the blood pooling and sliding and rushing. His chest and belly felt like they were on fire, every organ inside him burning as it was squeezed, pulped, raked, twisted, or punched. Broken ribs were puncturing his other organs, he could feel the prickle and poke, the stab of pain with every breath. 

Couldn't even cry anymore, pain beyond tears and beyond screaming, just quiet grunts as he writhed and twisted under the Demon's forceful push against the wall, adding more and more pressure to his slowly-breaking body. 

"Dad... please." 

It was the last plea that Dean was able to choke out, barely above the whisper, blood coating his tongue as he slowly worked the words out. His chin was against his chest, head down and no longer able to hold it up against the onslaught. Given in, defeated, Dean gave the last words he thought he'd ever be able to speak to the one person who he knew could save him in that instant. 

It took everything he had, and Dean's head sagged forward the rest of the way as his consciousness fled. 

The Demon's yellow eyes lit up at that, ruthlessly shoving down the screaming voice that was John Winchester. Rough hands jerked Dean's limp head back and its tongue shot out, forked and flickering over his chin. 

It moaned softly as the taste of Dean's blood exploded in its mouth. Hard and coppery, tasting tangy and sharp like the way a sack of burnt pennies smelled, it was ambrosia to the Demon as it licked harder. The pungent scent was like a drug in its nose, and it forced what shreds of consciousness remained in John Winchester to share the taste. 

It took sadistic glee in the disgust and fury spilling out from John's consciousness, taunting the man further with more licks of Dean's blood, directing the taunting thoughts inwards for a change. * _How do you like it, John? The taste of your own and flesh and blood heavy on your tongue, like metal in your brain digging in like spikes. You'll never forget this, John. Never forget what your son's blood tastes like. You and I, we're the same, we're fighting to protect our families and you're going to feed on his flesh._ *

Dean's blood was bright and red as it still poured out of his mouth, and it ringed the Demon's to give him the appearance of a demented clown as he turned around, looking at Sam with yellow eyes. "Want to share, Sammy? Want to know what Dean tastes like? Course you do." His red-ringed mouth spread into another disgusting grin, baring bloody teeth as well. "Or do you know already? Want to tell Daddy all about it?"

Sam was panting hard, throat hoarse and voice almost gone from the screaming. He tried to twist away as the Demon advanced on him, hiding every thought he'd ever had about Dean as far down as he could because that was the one thing he could do, protect his brother and keep this thing from having one more thing to torment them all with. 

"No? Nothing to say?" The Demon's breath was still fetid and hot, but was tainted heavily with blood and the stink of sulfur and darkness. 

Sam groaned, trying to twist his head away from what he knew was coming, but he couldn't move enough to get away. He closed his eyes, holding himself stiffly and ready to fight. Instead, the Demon pressed John's mouth against Sam's, forcing the kiss onto him as his tongue forced its way into Sam's mouth. 

He gagged, feeling the slimy intruder licking inside his mouth, rubbing over his tongue and leaving behind trails of blood and brimstone. That didn't stop the Demon, and Sam tried to fight his way free but couldn't. The Demon's tongue shoved deeper, leaving more of Dean's blood in Sam's mouth, and pulled away only when it couldn't taste blood any longer. 

Sam's mouth was smeared and red-ringed just as the Demon's was, and it gave a grin. "That's just a taste of it, Sammy. More where that came from. A body full of blood, just waiting for us to tear into, pull it apart and suck the flesh off the bone and wash it down with blood red as wine." 

Sam's eyes opened, and instead of the black that the Demon had hoped for, they were a furiously writhing twist of green and brown. "That's my blood," Sam croaked, and the force holding him back seemed to shatter in a heartbeat as he lunged for the Colt. The gun seemed to leap into his fingers even as he reached for it, and he cocked the hammer even as it lined up and pointed between the Demon's eyes. "Get out of my father."

The force of Sam shattering the Demon's control over him had Dean's body landing limply on the floor of the cabin, and the Demon itself fell on its back, looking up at Sam and the gun. It'd underestimated Sam, and in that second of shock, John Winchester was able to fight his way to the surface. "You shoot me, Sam," John groaned, fighting to get every word out and sobbing with the effort. "It's still alive, it's inside me, I can feel it. You shoot me, Sammy, you shoot me in the heart."

Sam winced, his head twitching as he listened to his father sob, listened to the weak and labored breathing of his brother as he lay in an insensate heap, and he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Dad," he whimpered softly, keeping the Colt trained on him. "I can't." 

John screamed, his body bowing and twisting as his mouth stretched inhumanely wide, a black cloud pouring out and disappearing through the cracks of the cabin windows, leaving behind broken bodies and harsh, panting breaths rippling in pools of blood. 

The End


End file.
